Lost My Toad Again, Dammit
by robolovers
Summary: Professor Longbottom ends up losing a bit more than his toad. I know, the title is crap. I'm open to suggestions. WIP. Not all the chapters will be M, but as a whole, the piece will.
1. Chapter 1

The sun sparkled on the gently-rippling lake. A few courageous ducks paddled their webbed feet in the greenish waters, then waddled up the bank and shook their feathers at each other. The Whomping Willow viciously attacked any curious squirrel or finch or sparrow that crossed its precarious path. And Neville Longbottom had lost his toad.

If anyone asked, you could easily say that Hogwarts was back to normal.

Severus Snape, a wicked grin on his usually stoic face, added a dash of habañero juice to his cauldron. _Just for taste._ Tucking a lock of greasy hair behind his ear, he straightened up and looked around for his jar of plimpy eggs.

With a crash, his workroom door burst open behind him. Whirling around, Severus found himself looking across the room into the frightened eyes of the new Herbology professor.

He snarled. "What do you think you're doing, Longbottom? It should be obvious by now that no potion is safe within a meter of you!"

"Professor, I've –"

"Out!"

"Wait!"

Neville's eyes flickered to the cauldron and shelves of containers behind the Potions Master, in which blobs of liquid and squashed ingredients floated. His eyes widened.

"I've lost my toad."

Severus sniffed. "Well, if you had remembered to ward your chambers, perhaps you wouldn't be so inconvenienced."

Neville bit his lip. He had only moved in yesterday. He'd had no time to set up fancy passwords – and if he had, he was likely to forget them in a day or two.

"Which raises the question—"

Neville's heart sank.

"– of how you were able to enter my workroom."

Neville looked up, confused.

"I generally do not give out my passwords to every new professor that wanders the halls. I greatly doubt you went to the Headmistress for that information."

"It just – let me in."

An uncomfortable silence filled the room.

"You evidently don't have my toad, Professor, so if you'll excuse me…"

The Head of Slytherin cleared his throat. "Yes. I'm sure this delicate mixture is far beyond ruination due to your idiocy."

"I didn't touch anything!" Neville exclaimed.

"I know. Good day, _professor_."

As it turned out, the batch of Skele-Gro was perfectly unharmed. Smirking, Severus reached for the chili powder.


	2. Chapter 2

For the next week, Severus was forced to _look at_ Longbottom whenever the young man greeted him in the hallway, at lunch or supper, at staff meetings… once, only once, at breakfast, and Severus made sure, with a snap and a snarl, that it wouldn't happen again.

As the days progressed, Longbottom seemed to pop up more and more frequently. Severus was starting to think the man had a map similar to the one he had nearly confiscated from Potter years ago. If Longbottom had gotten his hands on that—the Potions master gave an involuntary twitch at the memory of the new Head of Gryffindor and Herbology professor at the age of thirteen. Merlin, no.

With an exasperated sigh, Severus blew out the candle on his desk, got up, and made his way to his bed in the dark. He let his robes and underclothes drop to the floor – house-elves would take care of it.

He relaxed into the warmth of his bed, stretching, yawning…

A rustling sound made him freeze.

Completely still, Severus strained to listen.

Yes. There it was again, and in the total darkness of his bedroom, Severus could only take deep breaths and will his imagination to stop running wild.

Two rustles… and something touched his hand. With an undignified yelp, the head of Slytherin threw back the covers and grabbed his wand.

"Lumos!"

Momentarily blinded, he yelped again and was answered with a terrified croak from a lump in his bedding.

Trevor the toad leapt onto Severus' chest, and then to the floor, crawling under the bed. Refusing to shudder, Severus lifted the quilt and peeked under. Thank Merlin there was only the one. Severus didn't think he could handle flashing another amphibian in his lifetime.

He would deal with the hiding toad later.

"Nox."

The toad was nowhere to be found. Jumping at the smallest sounds, Severus went through his morning routine, casting _scourgify_ on his toothbrush and checking his shower twice before using it. He ate breakfast in his quarters – he preferred not to have to face Longbottom that morning – _Longbottom, I have your toad; it molested me in the night and has taken itself hostage in my rooms –_ it just wouldn't do.

Buttering a slice of toast, Severus managed to force the whole incident to the back of his mind. He would find the creature, and _then_ notify Longbottom. Better yet, he'd make Longbottom travel all the way to the dungeons again to retrieve the damned thing. He delicately wiped the crumbs from his lips, organized his dishes for the house-elves, and put on his teaching robes and customary scowl. Prepared, he opened the door, stepped out, tripped, and fell – one arm shot out in front to catch his fall, but with an odd angle, a crack, and a sharp, violent pain, he knew it had broken.

Severus lay on the stone floor for an embarrassingly helpless moment, then gingerly sat up, cradling his right arm with his left. He slowly got to his feet, only to find the cause of his pain croaking around the vicinity of his ankles. Throwing his best death glare at the animal, he leaned against the wall and attempted to conjure a bandage and sling with his left hand. The result would last him the trip to the infirmary, and could be hidden by his robes.

Turning, Severus kicked the toad into his rooms and locked the door.

"You may stay overnight if you wish, Severus," Poppy Pomfrey said, replacing Severus' makeshift bandage with a tap of her wand. He nodded. Despite the marking he needed to do, his rooms were not exactly the most appealing place at the moment—not with a malicious amphibian hopping around in the dark. Plus, Severus had broken his arm in two places – he refused to wonder why – and his bones were not as young as those of the students Poppy generally took her time to heal.

A good idea just to stay.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N – GUYS. Really sorry about the lateness of this. Mister Drama has been pooping out some big ones. Yes, bad metaphor. LIFE SUCKS, therefore fanfic is delayed. On with the story.

_--_

_A good idea just to stay._

A very, very bad idea. Snape audibly groaned as his curtains were pushed back, and blinked the sleep out of his eyes – Poppy Pomfrey stood above him, plump form nearly silhouetted against the blinding light of morning.

"You've got a visitor, Severus," she sniffed, clearing away his water glass and unraveling his arm bindings with a flick of her wand. Behind her, Severus could just about make out a –

Ah.

Longbottom.

The young man stood awkwardly by Severus' bedside, staring at a point somewhere next to Severus' left ear. He opened his mouth and squeaked – reddening, he cleared his throat, and tried again.

A sudden change came over his once-chubby face. Severus blinked.

"You never fall," Longbottom accused.

Severus sputtered, taken aback by the sudden eye contact and strong tone of voice. "How—"

A sudden commotion at the other end of the infirmary drew their gazes. A tearful young girl was ushered in, seemingly injured in a drop off her broomstick.

"Close the curtain," Severus hissed. Longbottom quickly complied.

Severus assumed a fixed scowl at the younger man in the privacy of the infirmary ward.

"Poppy told me about the breakage – only a fall could have caused that sort of damage to your arm," the younger man explained. "What happened?"

"None of your concern," Severus said coldly.

Longbottom sat himself carefully on the edge of Severus' bed. "I suppose you wouldn't let me make it up to you?" He asked, a smile twitching at a corner of his mouth. "Trevor always seems to get me into some sort of predicament. He's never been kind enough to include anyone else."

Severus' eyes widened, then narrowed suspiciously. "Horny little bastard."

Neville laughed quietly. Disconcertingly. _The toad, professor, or me?_

Severus fingered his bedcovers. "I don't know what you think you're—"

All was suddenly blurred, and unexpected warmth pressed itself to his mouth. After a few hazy moments, he realized Longbottom was kissing him.

_Kissing_ him.

Sweet Merlin.

Lips left lips…

"…on about…" Severus breathed, heart pounding.

Longbottom's once-again shy smile stayed firmly in place. "Sorry."

He didn't sound it.

A near-hysteric laugh escaped Severus' throat as he flexed his healed arm – the ends of his fingers tingled slightly – and brought it around Longbottom's back. _Whatever happens in the infirmary stays in the infirmary…_ once more, Longbottom leaned in, so close, a pair of dry lips met his, so _close_. And Severus gave up on keeping his eyes open, closed them, and gave in to sensation, other hand resting lightly on Longbottom's shoulder, heart pounding, lips opening. A questing tongue slipped between them…

And Longbottom knew how to make this _perfect_.

Soon, Severus was pushing back with his own tongue, breathing heavily through his overlarge nostrils and clutching at Longbottom's robes – and the spell was broken.

Wide-eyed, Neville pulled away, lips wet and reddened, and Severus realized –

"Out," he panted harshly, bringing his hand up to his mouth. Shock had come over the young man's face. Severus averted his eyes. The kicked-puppy look had never worked, he'd never let it.

"Out!"

He sat in silence in his bed, looking hard at nothing, with his hand over his mouth, and could nearly hear the dazed shudder, knew the cold, icicle feeling down one's spine.

The curtain eventually swished. Footsteps traveled to the end of the silent infirmary, and a door quietly closed.

Severus leaned back on his pillow, attempting to erase the last few minutes of his life from his mind.

He failed.


	4. Chapter 4

Here we go. After a very long break. 5 points to anyone who can spot the Discworld reference. Oh -- apologies for any confusion; earlier today you might have been alerted to Chapter 3, which was already submitted. I had to resubmit it, because I sort of forgot how to use this site. Enjoy.

---

"When can I leave?" Severus grumbled to Madame Pomfrey, wincing as she felt his arm.

"As soon as the bone is healthy, Severus," she reminded him. "And it seems to have been injured in more places than one. Your bones aren't very strong. I don't suppose you've been drinking your milk."

"No," he snapped. "I hate milk."

"When was the last time you had some?"

"1968," he said with a smirk. She tutted.

"Do you eat broccoli?"

"I hate broccoli."

"Well, it's no wonder you're so thin," she responded. "What do you live on? Bread and water?"

"Would you have me stuff myself every night? I suffer from indigestion, you know," he grumbled.

"You'll be suffering from a lot more if you continue with this diet, my boy," she berated. "There's little more I can do for this arm other than vanishing the bone so you can grow it back. I know for a fact you've brewed some new Skele-Gro for me. The fresher, the better."

"Woman. No." Severus paled, thinking quickly. "Er—it's in my laboratory. Nobody has the password. Use a spell, damn it. Use a charm."

Poppy stared. "For goodness' sake, Severus, I wasn't serious. And there will be one member of the staff that can easily get into your laboratory and rooms. There always is. Minerva assigned Professor Longbottom."

Severus shut his eyes in exasperation. No wonder the little prat had been able to break past his wards. Damn Minerva. She _would_ do a thing like that. And, perhaps—Severus opened his eyes again—perhaps that was why the toad had gotten in, as well. Like master, like warty amphibian. If he could hex Longbottom's face into warts, he would.

He might've written something for it in his old Potions textbook.

"You're free to go," said Poppy, releasing his newly-healed arm. He flexed it, freed himself from the humiliating infirmary bed, and swept past the nurse to the infirmary's exit.

"Remember, Severus," she called. "Calcium. I shall notify the house elves."

He took five points off a smiling Hufflepuff as he left.

---

In his free period after a fifth-year Gryffindor/Slytherin class and before a first-year Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw introduction lesson—dull, bound to be—Neville contemplated using a Summoning charm. No, that wouldn't do. Trevor would have smacked into countless walls and doors before breaking the necessary windows to reach the greenhouse. Then there'd be the mysterious toad-shaped hole in the glass wall to account for. The baby Devil's Snare wouldn't like it. But his_Reparo_ had improved over a week of broken ceramic pots and minor mishaps in the common room. After all, there was no Hermione to fix everything here.

Neville chewed on his lip. What if Trevor had gotten trampled? What if a student had thrown a book at him and squashed him? True, Trevor had lived years beyond the average toad's lifespan, but he had never been lost for more than a day or two. Perhaps he was hiding in the common room. No; one of the Gryffindors would have told him. If Professor Snape really had tripped over him, maybe he was now planning to use him in a potion.

Neville gulped. What had come over him in the infirmary? How could he have been so stupid? And—why did Snape give in? Snape _hated_ him. He'd melted so many cauldrons during his seven years at Hogwarts that the Potions classroom was probably charmed to automatically repel him. Snape always glared at him when they passed in the hallways or met in the professors' lounge. He practically_ignored_ him at meals.

But the sight of Snape in that infirmary bed, like some great god that had tripped over a goat and come falling down from Olympus, had made his heart beat quicker than a frightened kneazle. Of course, his heart always beat quicker when Snape was near, but this was different. This wasn't the usual sweaty-palms-and-frightened-squeak chain of events. This was a madness-most-discreet sort of thing. Bounty as deep as the sea, and so on. Usually it was heart palpitations—this time his heart had pranced around in his chest. He knew a change had come over him in his seventh year, and he'd almost stood up to Snape then, but in the infirmary, it was if he'd received a shot of pure alcohol into his bloodstream. It was—bloody hell. It was exhilaration itself.

Then the bastard had kicked him out. Snape barely glanced his way as he stood back in surprise.

Neville pounded the Herbology bench with his fist, causing a nearby Screechsnap to squeal.


End file.
